


Cliché or Classic

by profound-boning (farawaystardust)



Series: Halloween ficlets [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - No supernatural, Barista Castiel, Dean Has a Crush, Fluff, Halloween, M/M, Meg is a good wingman, Mutual Pining, Pumpkin Spice Lattes, Shy Dean, Teacher Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2016-11-01
Packaged: 2018-08-28 08:04:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8437828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farawaystardust/pseuds/profound-boning
Summary: So maybe Dean’s Tuesdays are slightly worse because he has to wake up earlier than on other days, but it’s worth it in order to get both of his 'fixes'–one of some piping hot liquid caffeine, the other of the vision behind the counter.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dragonwithatale](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragonwithatale/gifts).



> Prompt: I ordered a pumpkin spice latte at Starbucks and you made a heart in the foam and I decided to drink it here so I can smile at you some more AU
> 
> Pumpkin spice vs spiced cider was suggested by [triss](http://trisscar368.tumblr.com/) but I’ve never had spiced cider and I am OBSESSED with hot apple cider so I changed it. Hope that’s okay!

Dean has been coming to this Starbucks every Tuesday morning since the school year began. He had promised himself _only_ Tuesdays since he needs to stick to a budget and Tuesdays are terrible so it makes sense to treat himself on the worst day.

Being a preschool teacher (and don’t even try asking him about being a young and _male_ preschool teacher unless you are one, too) is a tough gig, and Tuesdays never get any easier.

Between the Halloween party at the end of the week and Family/Teacher Conferences coming next week, Mr. Dean needs his caffeine ASAP.

This Starbucks is right on his commute just two streets away from the school. That was enough reason to pull into the drive-thru those first two Tuesdays. The third week, he’d been a few minutes earlier and had decided to enter the store lobby to place his order.

At that moment, he was blessed with the sight of the most gorgeous barista in the history of baristas.

So maybe Dean’s Tuesdays are _slightly_ worse because he has to wake up earlier than on other days, but it’s worth it in order to get both of his 'fixes'—one of some piping hot liquid caffeine, the other of the vision behind the counter.

The dude obviously works out (most likely outside and hopefully without a shirt on, Dean’s downstairs brain helpfully adds) when he’s not making drinks here. His piercing blue eyes put the summer sky to shame. And sometimes he gives Dean this cute little smile with one side of his perfect pink mouth. He’s like this perfect combination of stunning athlete/male model and too-cute-to-be-a-twenty-something who makes Dean feel like a middle schooler all over again.

It’s frankly incredible that Dean can operate a motorized vehicle at all let alone continue on to the school and actually work for the rest of the day after being rewarded with a short conversation and a smile in addition to his coffee.

His regularly scheduled ogling takes a turn on this very important Tuesday right before Halloween.

Upon entering the lobby, a large sign by the door catches his attention:

**VOTE FOR YOUR FAVORITE SWEET HALLOWEEN TREAT**

**ORDER ONE AT THE REGISTER**

**_HOT APPLE CIDER_ **

**VERSUS**

**_PUMPKIN SPICE LATTE_ **

_Well, that’s easy,_ Dean thinks to himself as he approaches the counter.

Someone who is definitely not the guy Dean has a big, stupid crush on is currently manning the cash register, looking rather bored. But once she sees Dean, she glances over at the latte machine before meeting Dean’s eye with a wicked grin.

“Good morning, tall, freckled, and handsome,” she drawls. A loud bang sounds from underneath the machine to her right but she pays it no mind. “Halloween is upon us! Will you be having the apple cider or the pumpkin spiced latte this morning?”

“The cider, obviously,” Dean replies.

“Oh, but Castiel here makes a _divine_ pumpkin spice, don’t you my little unicorn?”

And lo and behold, the brunette barista Dean actually wanted to see today pops up from where he had apparently been underneath the latte machine. He has a small grease stain on his blue apron and his cheekbone and a wrench in his hand.

“Meg.” Dean is suddenly very grateful to Meg for giving the man of Dean’s affections a name. _Castiel._ “Surely the point of the customers voting is that they choose the drink they would actually like to consume.”

“Actually, the spice, uh, pumpkin latte is fine, too,” Dean rushes to say. “I’m sure since you’re making it it’ll be, um, delicious.” He feels his ears get hot but works to keep the embarrassment from his face. At this point, he doesn’t care what he drinks as long as _Castiel’s_ graceful hands create it.

This kind of sappy bullshit should only happen in chick flicks but, well, Dean Winchester is a sucker for a good rom-com.

“Oh.” Castiel blushes all down his neck, but he turns to start making the drink anyway.

Meg smiles widely and extends her hand to take Dean’s payment and place it in the cash register.

“I think I’ll take my break now, Clarence,” she tosses over her shoulder as she waltzes through the EMPLOYEES ONLY door.

There is a group of five elderly women sitting by the window and two middle-aged adults sitting alone at other tables in the dining area. Castiel seems to realize they’re alone at the counter only when he turns around and flushes again, placing Dean’s latte carefully between them.

“I hope a Grande is all right,” Castiel says softly.

“Thank you,” Dean tells him earnestly and gingerly picks up the hot drink.

He thinks he ought to take one sip in front of _Castiel_ and tell him how much he likes it (even if he doesn’t—stupid sugary garbage is never better than regular coffee, and certainly not better than apple cider) before he leaves.

Dean raises the cup to his lips and blows just a little to cool it off. He’s so focused on not looking at _Castiel_ while he does this in order to avoid dumping hot liquid all over himself that he almost doesn’t see the foamy top of the drink.

There in the off-white cloud is a small but very obvious shape of a heart made with some kind of syrup.

Dean’s own heart stutters in his chest. Is this—is this a flirtation?

He does look up at Castiel now, who is peering back at Dean from under his long, dark lashes.

“I know it’s not a traditional one for this time of year, but I was advised to, well, speak from the heart. Just in case…” He trails off, knotting his long fingers together in front of him. Dean has literally had several daydreams about intertwining those fingers with his own.

“What if I had chosen the apple cider?”

Castiel gives him one of those prized little half smiles. “I suppose I would have needed to get creative. Maybe grab a sharpie and try the classic number-on-the-cup technique.”

Dean laughs. “I’m glad to hear it. I’d be really disappointed if I couldn’t call you later.” He reaches into his pocket to retrieve his cell phone and hands it to Castiel over the counter.

 _Castiel_ is entering his phone number into a text message. On Dean’s cell phone. Because he wants Dean to call him. Because he just might have a crush on Dean, too.

Best. Tuesday. Ever.


End file.
